


Mulled Wine

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9005227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: A heartbroken Oswald receives an unexpected visitor on Christmas.





	1. Chapter 1

Gertrud had never had the money to spoil her liebchen on Christmas as much as she would have liked, but she always did her best to make it special for him. Seeing him light up as he opened his presents made the months of saving worth it every time. It was always just the two of them, but neither of them cared. As long as they had each other, that was all that mattered.

—

It was Oswald’s second Christmas without her. 

He had dared to hope that this Christmas wouldn’t be as difficult as the first one after her death had been.

After all, he had Ed. He wouldn’t be alone.

But that had all changed so quickly. He had loved and lost, and that made the loneliness all the more unbearable. The isolation cut twice as deeply because having Ed close to him for a short while had reminded him how awful it was to be alone. 

It seemed bitterly unfair to the Mayor that he could win the hearts of over half of the people in Gotham and convince them to entrust him with its governance, and yet, he hadn’t a single person to spend the holidays with. Other than Olga, of course. And Gabe, he supposed. 

He sat by the fireplace, lost in self-pity, when his melancholy train of thought was interrupted by Olga clearing her throat. 

“Mr Penguin, there is a man here to see you.”

Oswald barely moved. If it had been Ed, then Olga would have said used his name. He didn’t care to see anyone else.

“Tell him to go away. I wish to be alone.” 

Olga must have picked up on how unconvincing that remark was, since she raised an eyebrow and didn’t move to do as her employer ordered. Instead she added, “He says he is from the police. He’s very handsome.”

Oswald rolled his eyes, but then a spark of realisation brought new life to his miserable lethargy. He turned in his seat, looking up at the matronly maid curiously. “Jim?”

“I don’t know. Will I let him in?”

He lowered his eyes slightly, wondering what could have brought Jim to his door on Christmas. The word ‘fate’ drifted into his mind, but he tried to expel such romantic nonsense from his head. He had once had a certain… ‘fondness’ for Jim Gordon, but it was nothing compared to what he felt for Ed. It was ancient history. Whatever misguided notions of friendship and trust he had once had for the man, that part of his life was over. Jim had made it quite clear that he wouldn’t pull a hair for him when push came to shove.  

“Yes. Let him in.” Oswald didn’t know why those words had escaped his lips, but before he could stop them, they had been spoken. They contradicted everything his brain was telling him, yet he had said them anyway. Olga smiled slightly and turned to do as he had instructed, and he found himself unwilling to call out and tell her not to. 

He stood up and looked at himself in a nearby mirror, he began quickly fixing his hair into a slightly neater arrangement. He was straightening his tie when he heard Jim’s voice.

“Good evening, Mr Mayor.” Jim sounded tired and snow flecked his woollen winter coat and his dark blond hair. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were slightly rosy.

Oswald found himself lost for words. Tongue-tied. He tried to remind himself again that whatever he had once felt for Jim had been eclipsed by his love for Ed, but the beating of his heart and how very  _grateful_  he felt just to see Jim contradicted that.

He looked wonderful.

“I’m sorry to disturb you on Christmas, but I have a few questions about a case I’m working.” Jim’s eyes didn’t quite meet his, and Oswald didn’t know why. The smaller man nodded wordlessly, then he gestured with a certain awkwardness towards the cosy sitting room that he had previously been seated in. 

“Please, come in.” 

Jim hesitated. 

“I insist.” Oswald knew that must sound desperate, but his words weren’t as desperate as the hand he had wrapped around Jim’s arm. The fabric of his coat was wet with snow and cold to the touch. 

“You must be freezing.” He added quickly, as way of explanation, but his voice trembled a little too much for it to be convincing.

“I can’t stay long. I’ve got this case and-“  
  
  “No, of course not. But come in by the fire while we talk.” Jim finally started to move and Oswald encouraged him into the room, his hand staying on Jim’s arm until his visitor had sat himself down on one of the dark green armchairs. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“I’m on duty.” The detective reminded him, the words coming out more harshly than he had meant them to, and the brief, hurt look that came across Oswald’s face actually made him feel bad. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. What the hell was he doing here?

‘A case.’ 

Well, that was true. But he could have let anyone at the GCPD cover this. He wasn’t the only cop working on Christmas. 

Why was  _he_  here?

“Of course… I just thought,” Oswald smiled in that wounded way Jim had become accustomed to, that wounded way that he was too accustomed to, and topped up his own drink. “I just thought you looked cold. I can have Olga make you some tea, or a coffee, if you prefer.”

As the deep red liquid filled up the crystal glass, its spiced scent wafted through the small room and Jim couldn’t help but appreciate it. Maybe a glass of mulled wine would be nice. 

“Just one glass then.” Jim knew that he shouldn’t have said that. He  _should_  have said, ’I’m fine, thanks.’ Then he’d ask Oswald his questions and be on his way. Back to the GCPD and back to case files and back to instant coffee and back to slightly stale donuts. 

Oswald and mulled wine and a warm fireplace and a comfy chair seemed infinitely more inviting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being a bit shorter than I had originally thought it would be, but I wanted to keep it short and (shamelessly) sweet. I hope you enjoy it.

One glass turned into two, and two turned into three, and three turned into four. After that, Jim decided to stop counting.

He asked his questions, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he found himself asking other questions.

He found himself answering questions.

Why was Oswald alone at Christmas? Why was  _he_  alone at Christmas? How was it being Mayor? How was it being a detective again? Question after question and then another more serious question…    
  
“Do you want to stay the night?”

Jim didn’t know what to say to that. Oswald caught the uncertainty and his courage faltered as suddenly as it had risen. “The weather is dreadful, and you’re in no state to drive. I could have Olga make up one of the spare rooms.” He knew that his explanation was clumsy, and he prayed that he had not dreadfully offended Jim. “That is… If you don’t have somewhere else to be. Perhaps you have to return to the precinct?”

“No. This was my last stop for the night.” Jim admitted. 

That was true, but he had been planning on returning to the station. Spending the evening at his desk was slightly better than spending it alone in his apartment. He’d spent Christmas alone before, but he’d always had somewhere to go and someone to spend it with if he’d chosen to. This year, that wasn’t the case.

“Of course, if you would rather not, I can have one of my men drive you ho-“    
  
“A room would be nice.” 

Oswald’s eyes widened slightly, almost expecting a ‘but’ to follow. It didn’t. Unable to hide it, he smiled broadly and stood up a little too quickly, “Excellent! Let’s have another drink. We’re out of mulled wine, but there are plenty of other things.”

The alcohol had went to his head and with the first step forward, he stumbled. Jim was drunk too, but steadier on his feet, and he caught him.

“Jim,” Oswald’s face had slowly been becoming pinker as the evening went on, thanks to the wine, but now it was positively scarlet. Jim sighed softly, his arms remaining around Oswald long after he had helped the smaller man find his footing. “I, uh… Thank you.”  
  
“Don’t mention it.”

Jim didn’t let go. Oswald trembled slightly in his arms, and when he looked up at him there was such longing in his pale blue eyes. It made Jim feel wanted, really wanted, for the first time in far too long.

—

Oswald woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He was growing more and more accustomed to drinking rather too much, especially when he found himself alone, but that didn’t make hangovers any easier to stand. He groaned slightly, shifting, then, he found that an arm was wrapped around him. Its bare skin touching the his own. He was naked, and the weight of the arm was gently pinning him down to the bed. 

“Jim,” He gasped. His eyes were open now and able to see the sleeping man who lay in front of him. A few strands of dark, golden hair was swept across his closed eyes. He was breathing gently, his bare chest half covered by the duvet and gently rising and falling with each breath. A warmth spread all through Oswald at the sight, and he carefully lowered himself back down to lie by the other man. 

He didn’t want to disturb him, he didn’t want to wake him, he didn’t want to do anything that would ruin the perfection of this. 

Nonetheless, he risked leaning in close enough that he could feel Jim’s breath against his skin, and the detective’s arms drew him in all the closer. He gasped again, his heart beginning to pound so fast in his chest that he had no doubt Jim would be able to feel it too.

“Go back to sleep, Oswald… It’s still early.” Jim murmured. 

Oswald’s eyes widened. But then he smiled, and nodded, his face nestled close against the crook of Jim’s neck. Memories of the night before played in his mind. Memories of Jim kissing him in front of the fire, his hands running over his chest and then travelling southward. The touches and kisses had become more hungry, more desperate, and Oswald had clung to him like a lifeline. He would have collapsed if he hadn’t clung to him. He couldn’t remember how they had ended up in the bedroom, but they had, and Jim had made it all feel so good. It had felt like a dream.

“Merry Christmas, Jim.” He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled, but the sheer affection of the words ringing clear.

“Merry Christmas, Oswald.”

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a part two posted on the 26th depending on how things go.


End file.
